


The Chamber of Truths

by noiproksa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banter, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Team Free Will (Supernatural), Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 20:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18645262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noiproksa/pseuds/noiproksa
Summary: On a case, Dean and Cas get stuck in a cursed room and the only chance they have at getting out in time is to play along and tell each other ‘meaningful truths.’(Intended as gen, but can be read as Destiel pre-slash.)





	The Chamber of Truths

“You’d think an angel would be more useful on hunts,” Dean grumbled as he was carefully walking up the brittle stairs, his EMF meter in one hand, an iron bar in the other. Searching the ground floor of the ramshackle ruin that had once no doubt been a glorious mansion, had taken _ages_. “Seriously, my EMF meter is more useful.”

“That is not true,” Cas replied, who was trailing behind both Dean and Sam. “You just said that it hasn’t detected anything so far. Neither have I.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay, congratulations, you’re about _as_ useful as an EMF meter.”

“At least I do not need a device to tell me if a supernatural being is nearby.”

Dean ignored that comment in favor of complaining some more. After all, he had hoped they would be back in time for the next episode of _Doctor Sexy_ since it had seemed like a pretty straightforward case of a good old-fashioned haunting. “This mansion is _huge_ , man.”

“It’s a manor, actually,” Sam butted in. “Didn’t you pay attention when I told you about the history of this place?”

“Blabla murdered husband blabla haunted house. What more was there to pay attention to?”

“Well, for example that Greyford Manor was built in…” Sam started, but Dean interrupted him.

“No, no, no. You’re not going to rattle off some boring facts again!”

They had reached the first floor and Dean quickly pointed to the first room on the right. “I’m taking this one. Cas, you take the one next to mine. Sam, you can start with the first room on the left.”

Without waiting for a reaction, Dean pushed open the door to ‘his’ room.

As soon as he had entered the room, he realized multiple things in quick succession. First, the room had no windows, which was why it was completely dark inside. Second, the only light came from the hallway behind Dean—and a few feet to his left from the door through which Cas had just entered the very same room. Third, his EMF meter was going off like crazy.

Then the door behind him slammed shut with a bang, leaving the room pitch black save for the lights from his EMF meter, which were hardly enough to make out anything.

“Cas?” he called out and luckily, the angel seemed to understand as a second later, Cas’ hand was glowing brightly, making it possible to take a look around.

Dean gripped the iron bar tighter, half expecting a ghost to attack them, but the room appeared completely empty. _Completely_ empty, seeing as it wasn’t even furnished. He quickly shut off the EMF meter to cut off the annoying sounds and turned back around to the door in order to let some more light in. Only he couldn’t find the door anymore.

“Where’d the door go?” he asked Cas while rummaging through his backpack in order to exchange his EMF meter for a flashlight so that he wasn’t dependent on Cas as a light source.

“Mine seems to have vanished, too,” Cas stated just as Dean had found his flashlight and was searching the wall for any sign of the door. There was none.

Giving up on the door for now, Dean turned back to the empty room. “And where the hell is the ghost?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at his living and breathing EMF meter.

“There is no ghost in this room,” Cas claimed.

“My EMF meter said otherwise. Guess it has your angel senses beat after all, huh?”

A strange creaking sound made Dean turn around, but there was nothing behind him. Although…

“Does the room seem… smaller to you?”

“Yes. The walls have moved 14.47 inches closer,” Cas deadpanned.

“Okay, that’s it.” Dean banged on the wall where the door had been. “Sammy!”

He waited a few seconds, but nothing happened. No sound, nothing.

Taking out his cell phone, he called his brother. It rang a couple times before Sam answered.

“–ean? … go?— –ing… –m…”

“I can’t understand you, man,” Dean said. The next second, the call disconnected.

“What kind of mansion has such crappy reception?” Dean shook his head as he was walking towards the other side of the room, where windows would have been.

“The kind that is located 32 miles away from the nearest town and was last lived in in 1907,” Cas explained promptly. When Dean shot him a disbelieving look, he shrugged. “I paid attention to Sam.”

Dean had finally found a spot where he had more bars and tried calling Sam again.

This time, he picked up immediately. “Dean? Where did you go?”

“Cas and I, we’re stuck in here. The doors just vanished on us and the walls…”

“What are you talking about?” Sam interrupted him. “I’m in the room you entered right now. You’re not here.”

That made Dean pause for a moment. Then he asked, “And the doors are still there?”

“Yes.—It’s just a normal room.”

“Furnished?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Huh.—Ghost room. That’s a new one.—So how do we get out?”

He could hear some rustling from the other side of the line and then Sam said, “I’m searching the room. See if I can find something useful. You just hang tight.” With those words, he hung up.

Dean turned around to Cas, who had started walking along the wall and knocking on it every few paces. It seemed the angel was getting restless. Cas had mentioned on occasion that he didn’t like being cooped up in the bunker. He probably wasn’t too fond of being locked up in a room with no doors and no windows, what with him being an angel, who probably wanted to spread his wings instead of being confined in an airtight room.

“Sam is working the case from the outside,” Dean said in order to reassure him.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, stopping in his walk around the room, lowering his head.

Dean had no idea what he was apologizing for, but before he could ask about it, Cas continued, “If I could still fly, I could just ‘zap’ us out of here.”

So Dean had been right. Cas _was_ worried. Not without reason, seeing as the room could move its walls. Trying to comfort the angel, Dean said softly, “Hey. Sam will figure this out. I’m not worried. We’ll be out of here in no time.” He hadn’t even stopped speaking when an all too familiar creaking sound echoed through the empty room and Dean saw the walls closing in on them a few inches.

“Almost forgot about this fun little extra,” Dean grumbled and the next second, the walls moved another few inches closer.

Dean took a step away from the wall.

“I am currently able to fly,” Cas stated out of nowhere. Before Dean could ask what the hell Cas was on, the walls moved yet again.

“It’s lies,” Cas realized. “The walls are moving closer when we lie.”

“That’s just terrific,” Dean groaned—and the walls moved.

“Stop lying,” Cas said, shooting him an exasperated look.

“I wasn’t.” And there went another few inches.

“Dean!”

“It’s _sarcasm_. Can’t the room tell when I’m being sarcastic?”

“Apparently not.”

Dean was saved from having to answer by the ringing of his phone. He put it on speaker so that Cas could listen in before answering.

“Tell me you got something,” he demanded.

“I got something,” Sam answered dutifully.

When he didn’t say anything else, Dean prompted, “Well?”

“Oh, so _now_ you want me to rattle off some boring facts?”

“Sammy, this isn’t a joke. The walls are closing in on us and I don’t know how much oxygen is in this room.”

“Oh, wow, sorry. Yeah,” Sam mumbled, his voice immediately taking on a worried edge as well. “So, I found Lady Greyford’s diaries. She refers to a room called the ‘Chamber of Truths.’”

“Kind of like the opposite of the Chamber of Secrets, huh?” Dean said, smirking at Cas, who was just looking back with a blank expression. Sam didn’t say anything, either. Tough crowd. Charlie would have appreciated the joke, for sure.

“Right. Anyway,” Sam said. “As the name says, there were no lies allowed inside the room. She makes it out to be some kind of marriage counseling thing. She and her husband would spend an hour a week in that room and take turns telling each other truths. Only, when her husband lied about an affair with the… uhm… the gardener—she had to ‘purify’ the chamber.—I’m pretty sure that room was where she killed him. It says something about ‘crushing’ him—so, I really don’t like the whole wall moving thing you mentioned.”

“That makes sense. The walls only move in on us when we’re lying. This has gotta be some kind of haunting,” Dean said. “Just—burn the diaries. Burn down everything you can get your hands on. Cas and I can wait it out. Just have to make sure we don’t lie to each other in the meantime.”

“I don’t know, man. I’m not sure, but I think Lady Greyford might have been a witch. I don’t think she’s haunting the place, I think there’s witchcraft involved.”

“So, what, have you found any hex bags?”

“No...”

“Maybe it’s a witch ghost,” Dean suggested.

No one said anything for a moment. Then the sound of creaking walls filled the air once more.

“What the hell? No one was even lying!” Dean shouted.

“What? What’s happening?” Sam asked.

“Stupid room was shrinking again.” The once spacious room was starting to get too small for comfort. There was still some room to pace, but they should really hold off on any more lies.

“Sounds like the room wants you to play the game,” Sam said. “Maybe enough truths will get the doors to reappear?”

“What, like an escape room? Find the hidden truth?”

“Maybe. Look, I’m going to try to find out more. Just—don’t get crushed in the meantime, okay?”

“We’ll try,” Dean said and then hung up.

He looked over at Cas, who was frowning, probably trying to figure a way out of this mess. “Telling the truth should be easy,” he said and then he looked at the ceiling as if he were addressing the room. “I am an Angel of the Lord.”

The room was getting another few inches smaller.

Cas looked over at him helplessly, obviously stumped as to why the room had decided to punish them for telling the truth. Dean took a stab in the dark, “Well, you’re not _just_ an Angel of the Lord anymore. You’re also a Winchester.”

The walls started creaking again and Dean groaned; he had really thought he had spoken the truth just now. But then he realized that the walls had, in fact, moved further away again. Okay, great, he could work with that.

“I’m a hunter,” he tried, staring at the walls and willing them to move back another few inches. Nothing happened.

Before he could come up with another simple truth, his phone rang again.

Sam started talking without waiting for so much as a ‘hello,’ “She writes she already knew about his ‘proclivities’ and that last day, the day of his murder, she gave him one last hour in the room to confess. He didn’t, so… adios husband.—How long have you been in there, twenty minutes? I think it would be best if we got you out before the hour is up.”

“You think?!” Dean said testily. “We just tried the whole ‘telling the truth’ thing. Doesn’t work all that well.—I mean, I just told you a truth and… nothin’!”

“Yes, well, you were actually spot on with the opposite of ‘chamber of secrets.’ The room was meant to share _meaningful_ truths in. Not everyday truths you would tell everyone anyway.”

Dean sighed. He kept the “Just peachy!” to himself so that the room couldn’t misunderstand his sarcasm, and instead said out loud, “Have you burned the diaries yet?”

“I… uhm… I’m getting right on that. Just thought there might be something else useful in there.”

Exasperated, Dean hung up, and turned to Cas again. “Okay, we need some ground rules if we’re doing this. Rule number one, what’s said in the Chamber of Truths, stays in the Chamber of Truths. Capiche?”

“Rule number two, we are not allowed to get mad at each other for what we say,” Cas added without so much as blinking an eye, and Dean couldn’t suppress a grin. Cas was catching on quickly.

“Agreed,” he said.

They fell into silence. ‘Meaningful truths’… whatever that might mean.

Luckily, Cas seemed to have a better idea of what was expected of them, as he started them off. “I am the one who took your favorite shirt. The one you were looking for all day yesterday.”

The walls moved a bit in the right direction, but Dean barely noticed it.

“What?” has asked, a bit too harshly, and he had to remind himself of rule number two, and took a deep breath. “Why?” he then asked, more calmly.

“It is very soft,” Cas stated and there went all the hard work as the walls were closing in again.

“You’re lying,” Dean said, dumbfounded, even though the room had made that obvious anyway.

“Yes,” Cas acknowledged. And after a moment, he admitted, “I threw it away.”

“What?!” Again, said in a tone that was too harsh. Dean cleared his throat and repeated in a forced casual tone of voice, “What?”

“You almost got killed in that shirt on multiple occasions,” Cas explained. “I do not believe it is a lucky shirt. As a matter of fact, I believe you are better off without it.”

Dean was gaping at him. Was this angel for real? “Wait—are you superstitious? Can angels even _be_ superstitious?”

“I’m not…”

“Don’t,” Dean said quickly, afraid that Cas was about to lie. “You realize that I only get almost killed in that shirt more often than in others because it’s my _favorite_ one and I’m wearing it more often than any other shirt?—See? Even the room agrees with me,” Dean added when the walls didn’t close in on them.

“It could be cursed,” Cas countered, and when once again the room stayed just the way it was, he said, “It seems like the room agrees with _me_.”

“Yeah, because it thinks _you_ think that’s a possibility.”

“You sound mad,” Cas stated. “You are not allowed to be mad.”

Dean rubbed a hand across his face and sighed. “Alright. Fine.” This wasn’t getting them anywhere anyway. Seemed like it was his turn if he wanted to move this along. “While we’re on the subject of taking things away. Your car keys didn’t accidentally end up underneath the cushions of the couch. I hid them there.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed like his truth had been good enough for the room, which let the walls retract some more.

Cas tilted his head at him. “Why?” he asked.

“You were about to leave again for some kind of unnecessary mission and I just… wanted you to stay, I guess,” Dean admitted, averting eye contact. The creaking sound told him that it had been another ‘meaningful truth,’ even though he had his gaze lowered and couldn’t see the walls moving away.

Piling on another truth, he quickly continued before he could think about it and change his mind, “You know that I was joking around earlier, right? Giving you a hard time, but I… it’s fun having you around.—I love having you on hunts and you actually _are_ pretty useful on hunts. So… there’s that.”

“More useful than an EMF meter?”

“Definitely more useful than that.”

After a beat of silence, Cas confessed, “I love going on hunts with you.”

“Yeah? Nothing better to do than hang out in a haunted house, playing a game of Truth or Death with me?” Dean asked, going for levity since this was all getting a bit too serious for him.

But Cas didn’t seem to get the message to leave the serious moment behind.

“Never,” he answered, looking Dean right in the eyes in the dim light of his glowing hand and Dean’s slowly dying flashlight. Dean rolled his eyes, expecting the walls to move closer again, but it didn’t happen.

“I would always choose to fight by your side,” Cas continued. “Be it monsters or… rooms. I would rather go to the Empty again than lose you to death.—But one day you _will_ die—and I will still be here,” Cas added and he looked so sad when he said it that Dean couldn’t leave him alone in this admission.

“Well, then you can just come visit me in my Heaven,” Dean suggested, clapping Cas on the shoulder. “You know, do the angelic version of retiring. Hang out with me in my Heaven for eternity. Could be fun.” He shrugged, forced casual, even though that’s exactly how he imagined his afterlife.

Cas looked uncertain. “It is not allowed,” he said haltingly.

Dean snorted. “Since when do you care about Heaven’s rules? Just sayin’, you know that you’re welcome in my afterlife any time. As a matter of fact, wouldn’t be my personal Heaven without you, anyway.”

Cas was looking at the walls, eyes narrowed, as if expecting them to close in on them. When they moved outwards instead, Dean raised his eyebrows at him, smirking. Seemed like Cas had to believe him. The angel was blinking at him, his expression baffled, but genuinely happy.

Then he looked away from Dean, sheepish, and a moment later, he called out, “Dean—the door!”

He pointed at a place in the middle of the wall, where the outlines of the door were slowly reappearing. It seemed like they had found the hidden truth. Cas was the first one at the door, but it was not yet completely corporeal and he couldn’t touch the doorknob.

“We’re almost out,” Cas said, turning around to Dean. “Keep going.”

Dean snorted. Yeah, right. “What do you mean, ‘keep going’? _You_ keep going. I just said a shitton of stuff. Your turn. What else you got?”

Cas looked around the room for a moment, lost in thought. Then he said, “I never told you. But you were the reason I returned from the Empty. It tried to convince me to stay there, asleep in ‘infinite peace,’ without regrets, without pain, but I wanted to come back to you. I _had_ to come back to you. Even though there is so much suffering on Earth; even though it was very likely I would just fail you again...”

“Hey, no,” Dean cut in. “You never _failed_ us. We all make mistakes, right? Anyway, I would have kicked your ass if you hadn’t come back.” Dean quipped and the outlines of the door that had become stronger during Cas’ confession were starting to disappear again.

Dean quickly addressed the room, “Okay, okay, I get it, you don’t appreciate my kind of humor, jeez.” Turning back to Cas, he decided to stop the wisecracks and turn serious. “When you were dead—and I thought there was nothing I could do to bring you back. I was messed up, man. Just… nothing seemed to matter anymore, you know?”

“Dean…” Cas started, but that was about as much seriousness as Dean could handle right now.

He was about to say something else stupid to lighten the mood, not even caring if the door would disappear again, when suddenly all around them, the room started to disappear and light and colors returned until they were standing in a bright room. Dean had to blink against the light coming in through the big windows and it took a second to get his bearings.

“Yes!” Sam called, triumphant. He was standing a few feet away in front of a trash can, in which some books were burning. “I did it!”

“What do you mean, _you_ did it?” Dean asked. “It was clearly _me_ who got us out of there.”

“I burned the books. I even—”

“We won the game,” Cas butted in. “I helped.”

Sam was putting out the fire and was just about to object, but Dean cut him off. “Let’s get out of here,” he decided. “Before this room decides to trap us again.”

“It won’t,” Sam said, but he followed Dean outside anyway. “Because I destroyed the cursed objects.”

“Or because Cas and I were so awesome at playing Truth or Death,” Dean pointed out.

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, clearly giving up that argument. “So. What were you guys talking about to win the game?”

“Oh, we’re all meeting up in my Heaven once we die for real,” Dean explained what Sam had missed. “Team Free Will—transcending into the afterlife.”

Sam scrunched up his nose. “Why in _your_ Heaven? Why not in mine?”

“’Cause you weren’t there when we made the plans. Cas is gonna bust you out and then we’re meeting up in my Heaven because it’s gotta be way more awesome than yours anyway.”

While they were walking down the stairs to leave the manor behind, Sam asked, “So that’s what you guys were discussing? So many things you could have talked about and you chose to talk about death? Why am I not surprised?”

“Yeah, that was pretty much the only thing we talked about. Right, Cas?”

Dean winked at Cas behind Sam’s back and the angel frowned, and then winked back at him, closing his eye way too slowly, which looked weird and made Dean chuckle and shake his head. It was good to be able to tell a little white lie again without fear of getting crushed. After all, what had been said in the Chamber of Truths would stay there. But it would stay with Dean, too, and—glancing at Cas who was smiling to himself, Dean hoped it would stay with Cas, as well.

**Author's Note:**

> [Rebloggable tumblr link here](https://noiproksa.tumblr.com/post/184528994524/on-a-case-dean-and-cas-get-stuck-in-a-cursed-room)
> 
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> As always, thanks for reading, and please make my day by leaving kudos, comments, and love! ♥


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